


Equilibrium

by Seascribe (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Curtain Fic, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-04
Updated: 2011-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-20 03:07:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Seascribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something like a happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Equilibrium

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before the end of season three.

Dean dreams.  Jagged, pulsating dreams of remembered agony that make him scream himself awake.  Sam is always there.  _Hey Dean, it’s okay, I gotcha.  Breathe, bro_.  And he kisses Dean’s hair like he’s a little kid and lies back down with him, mismatched spoons in a drawer.  In the mornings, Dean shoves him away and calls him a girl.  Sam just smiles a little sadly and goes to get breakfast.  Dean wants to kiss him over the hashbrowns and coffee, but he doesn’t.  _I think I found a hunt in Wilmington_ , he says instead.

Sitting by Dean’s hospital bed with the beeping monitors and flashing LEDs, Sam says, _I can’t do this anymore, Dean_.   Dean wants to say okay and tell him he’s sorry, but he can’t talk around the tube in his throat.  So he reaches out and squeezes his brother’s hand as hard as he can.

They only buy one bed for the apartment.  Three weeks there, and they haven’t had sex.  Sam hasn’t touched him --there, like that, _oh god, Sam, just like that_ \--since before Hell, and Dean has stopped expecting.  Hoping.

Sometimes, like today, it rains and Dean hangs over the railing and lets it soak into his hair, grinning like a loon.




Dean always leaves an extra cup of coffee warming in the pot for Sam.  It hasn’t been like this since Saturday mornings when they were little, when Dean was the first one out of bed and he would let Sam sleep for as long as he wanted while Dean was busy making toast and bacon.  He smiles.  They deserve this. 

 _You’re getting the floor wet_ , Sam says softly, and puts his coffee cup carefully back down on the counter.




Everything in Dean just lets go.  _Sammy_ , he says into his brother’s mouth, licking after the taste of cream and sugar behind his teeth.  Sam puts his hands on Dean’s stubble-rough cheeks, cradles his face like he’s something precious.  _Missed you_ , Sam gasps.  _Missed this_.

Dean groans and tangles his hands in Sam’s stupid hair, presses their too-thin bodies together and feels the achingly familiar heat and throb of Sam against his hip.  He’s drunk and blind in Sam’s arms, lets himself be led to the sagging sofa in the living room.  They still fit together like puzzle pieces on the threadbare cushions-- same as at four and eight, twenty-three and twenty-seven--Sam’s breathe in Dean’s ear and his enormous feet hanging off the other end. 

 _Want you so bad_ , Sam breathes, and Dean arches to meet him, slides his hands down Sam’s ribs, makes him choke with laughter and his hips stutter so perfect.   _You’ve got me_ , Dean tells him.  _I’m right here_.

They rut together like teenagers, too horny to get naked and do it right.  Doesn’t matter.  Sam grins against Dean’s neck as he creams his shorts.

 _That’s it, baby,_ Dean sighs, and Sam bites his ear. 

                END


End file.
